After seven years of planning a wedding with the man of my dreams, he stabbed me in the back!
My name is Catherine Frost, and I live in York, where the River Ouse flows past the old houses. My tale might seem simple to you, yet it tears my heart apart. I was preparing to marry the person I thought was my destiny, but he betrayed me in a way that leaves me breathless with pain.
I met James seven years ago. Not a single argument, not a day went by without warmth and mutual respect. We were like two halves, joined as one. Four months later, I moved into his home—we both wanted to be closer, not to lose a moment apart. Together, we created countless memories that I will hold dear until my last breath. Sometimes, we fooled around like children—laughing, playing, hiding from each other in jest. Other times, we loved each other as if there was no tomorrow—passionately, to the point of tears of joy.
I’ve never experienced anything like it with other men. James was genuine to me—strong, tender, someone in whose arms I wished to fall asleep and wake up every morning of my life. August 8th became a day I will never forget. He woke me with breakfast in bed—warm croissants, aromatic coffee, his smile. Then we were intimate, slowly, as if time stood still. We were on vacation, relishing freedom and each other’s company. We spent a week in Cornwall—sea, sun, sunsets that felt magical. It was like a fairy tale.
That day, while he was in the bath, someone knocked on the door. I opened it—a stranger handed me a bouquet of red roses and a note: “I love you. J.” My heart raced with joy. I thanked James for the surprise, kissed him, and we went to the beach. But that was just the beginning. Downstairs at the reception, another man handed me a single rose. As we walked to the sea, six more people gave me flowers. On the beach, I held a bouquet of seven roses—one for each year of our love. James just smiled, winked: “I wanted to surprise you.” We spent the day by the water, and as the sun set, we waded into the sea, kissing under the sound of waves. Then suddenly, he went down on one knee right there in the water: “Cathy, will you marry me?” I gasped with happiness, tears rolled down my cheeks, and my legs trembled. “Yes!” I shouted, and the world spun in a dance.
Everything was going smoothly until December. Before New Year’s, he went on a business trip to another city. He returned a week later—distant, cold, with a blank expression. For three days, I tried to understand what happened, but he stayed silent like a stone. Finally, he broke down and confessed: he had slept with a colleague. They drank, relaxed, and “it just happened.” My world collapsed. The man who swore I was his universe, who embraced me as if I was the only person in the world, betrayed me. It felt like a dagger in the back. I wept, and so did he—tears streamed down his face, but they meant nothing.
The next day, I packed my things and left. He begged me to stay, clung to my hands, shouted that he loved me, that it was a mistake. But I couldn’t—inside, everything had died. I slammed the door and vanished from his life. Then came the calls, long conversations, his tears, and mine. But the pain wouldn’t go away—the betrayal burned like hot iron. I still love him—so much that it tears my heart apart. But when I remember what he did, tears choke me, and love mixes with hate. We’ve seen each other three times since the breakup. Each time, I want to run to him, hug, kiss him, but I hold myself back. I can’t. It’s like a poison I can’t swallow.
I want to return to him—to those days when he was my hero. But I’m afraid he’ll break my heart again. This wound bleeds, and I don’t know how to heal it. I walk the streets of York, see couples holding hands, and feel like an empty shell. He was everything to me, and now I’m alone, with this love that suffocates me and the betrayal that won’t let go. Please, give me advice. I need to hear someone else’s opinion, to understand what to do. Should I leave him in the past or give him a chance? The pain is unbearable, and I’m drowning in it, unable to see the shore. What should I do with this love that has become my torment?”
